


A Knightly's Tale

by NEStar



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:04:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NEStar/pseuds/NEStar
Summary: Early meetings of Emma Woodhouse and George Knightly.





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2005, as such, enjoy my original AN.
> 
> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: Some innuendo.  
> Genre: Jane Austin's Emma  
> Summary: The first meeting of Emma and Mr. Knightly.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all. Poor me.  
> Archive: Unblocked, Hyacinth Gardens, The Start Palace. Anyone else just ask.  
> Authors notes: This was written for the Snippets challenge at HG.  
> Thanks: To Sarah and Jenn for the beta and Cindy C. who said the title as a joke, but I couldn’t think of  
> anything else.

“Hurry George!” the voice of my younger brother called through the door. “You must hurry or Mama will be there long before us, and Mrs. Woodhouse said I could hold the baby!”

Grabbing hold of my riding crop, I left the relative safety of my room and placed myself at the mercy of John. “And what does the one have to do with the other?”

“If Mama gets there before us, she won’t give the baby up till we leave.” John said this as if the newest Woodhouse was a treasure worthy of the King and that holding the child was an honor of a lifetime.

As for myself, well, babies do have their place in the grand scheme of things, but have long failed to have any impact on my life. Oh yes, they have had no impact and, unlike that fool Gregory Smithson, will not have an impact for a good many year. I mean really, the freedoms of school should not give a man leave to rut with any pretty face he sees. A quick tumble when you must, yes. But an on going affair with every barmaid in town, what did he think would happen?

“Here John, you’ll kill yourself if you try to mount him like that.”

“I can do it myself George. I know how to ride.” Good Lord, younger brothers.

“Oh yes, I know that. You were the one who begged Father to let you ride David for the visit. Told him that I would look after you without even asking me.” A sudden idea struck me, “I think you just want to impress Isabella.”

“I DO NOT!”

Pulling myself onto Goliath, I took a quick start out of the yard.

“I do not like Isabella Woodhouse! Take it back!”  
  
“Mrs. Isabella Knightley. Yes I think it would suit her well.”

“George stop it!”

“When should I wish you joy?”

“I’ll get you George Knightley.”

“Ha!”

* * *

 

“But really Knightley, the boys’ looks are much changed. And with years of school left! If you push him to keep on, it might just kill him.”

“Come Woodhouse. You and I both went to school and survived. I’m sure George will do the same.”

“But, you must think of the way illness spreads now days…”

No thank you. Even I don’t find my heath that fascinating.

“But aren’t you scared to be up so high John?”

“Oh no Isabella, David isn’t tall. I wanted a horse like George’s Goliath, but the thought worried Mama so. I felt I should honor her wishes.”

My brothers courtship, Ha! As if John would say to his lady-love that really he begged to keep his pony, but Father told him it was time to learn to ride a real horse. And David was the smallest one that could be found.

Lord but if Robert Wheaton could have come back to Donwell with me as we planed. At least there would have been some sane conversation. But I would be throwing myself at my Fathers good graces if I needed as much money as he did. How on earth could Robert have lost so much at cards! Really, if you can’t afford to lose then don’t play. All it takes is a small sum set aside from your allowance, say a pound or so, then what ever you win goes into you card purse. There are times I think I’m the only one on campus with any sense at all. Why even Professor Palmer has been reprimanded for being drunk too many times. Of course it was only after that Munsgrove boy had died. But still…

“This was at Mrs. Bracknal’s. It was quite a to-do.”

“Well, I have told Mr. Woodhouse that Isabella will be taught here. A governess was perfectly fine for me and it will be fine for the girls. Miss Taylor is a wonderful fit. Such a gentlewoman!”

How much longer will we be here? It almost makes me wish I were back at school. No babies there and women only opened their mouths for one thing.

“George! You haven’t held the baby yet.”

“No Mama, I have not.” Nor do I wish to.

“Well you must! Here, gently.”

“Do watch her head.”  
  
“Yes, Mrs. Woodhouse. I have a good hold on her.”

“Oh, is it not a sweet picture Julia?”

“It is indeed.”

A drunken stupor would be helpful now. I must attend more to Professor Palmer next term.

“Just think Julia, it won’t be too many years before it could be his own.”

“I beg your pardon Mrs. Woodhouse, but I don’t think so.”

Good Lord! They’re giggling.

“And what makes you say that? D on’t you think your Father will set an allowance foryou that would support a wife?”

Time to pour on the charm. “But Mrs. Woodhouse consider the young ladies in the area. Miss Bates is too old, Miss Weston is to be wed soon and if I courted Isabella I think I would have to fight my brother for her. Alas, my only choice is to wait for little Emma to grow up.”

I was able to hand the baby back to her mother and release myself from that particular level of hell. Now if only I could be back home with that bottle of French wine I brought back from school in one hand and the upstairs maid in the other. After putting up with all this nonsense I deserve it. Its not like Emma Woodhouse will be anything to me.


	2. Thank you, Emma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original AN: Knightly wanted more of his story told, so I wrote this. Enjoy!

“George! What are you doing here?” My brother John was walking across the university campus, a place I had left behind since our Father’s health had taken a downward turn over the summer.  
  
“John, I must talk to you.” John’s face whitened as he took in the tone of my voice.  
  
“George?” The hand on my sleeve stopped my motion, but the look on his face stopped my heart. It was a look he had given me frequently as a young boy when one of his toys broke or after he fell off his horse David. A look that begged me to make everything better. But there was no better this time.  
  
“Yesterday John.” I said in answer to his unspoken question. “I set out only an hour after he passed.”  
  


* * *

  
  
I have buried my Father.  
  
My Father.  
  
But he was more; Father, Landlord, Judge... Oh God!  
  
This is now my role!  
  
What will I, how...  
  
"George? George!" Why is John hissing at me?  
  
"Walk George." Walk? Why?  
  
Oh, walk!  
  
I turned away from the grave and looked for the pastor. He was already standing by the gate, so I moved quickly.  
  
"Thank you." I said softly.  
  
"God be with you, Mr. Knightly."  
  
Mr. Knightly, I am now Mr. Knightly.  
  
Oh God!  
  


* * *

  
  
Numbness is an unique feeling, all the outward senses stop relaying stimuli till all that remains is a disconnected conscious. This consciousness is then muffled 'til all that is left is a glint of recognition.  
  
The only thing I could see was the child on the floor playing with her doll. I could hear voices talking, but they were not important.  
  
"And did many people come, John?"  
  
"Yes Mother. A good number."  
  
"Did Rev. Bates speak well?"  
  
"Very well indeed, Isabelle. His remorse was truly moving. Don't you agree George?"  
  
The child has such a tender way with the doll.  
  
"Don't cry Betsy. You must be a big girl like me."  
  
So the doll is Betsy.  
  
"Yes, well... Moving. Yes."  
  
"Was there anything else John?  
  
"Ah, your Husband was quite supportive, Mrs. Woodhouse."  
  
What is she doing now?  
  
"Thank you John. It is such a shame that he could not stay after, but I'm sure you are learning that a man's time is not as much of his own as he would wish."  
  
"Yes Mrs. Woodhouse. I have learned something of that at university. Also from the letters I have exchanged with George these past months."  
  
The child stood up and brushed at her dress before picking up the doll.  
  
"Yes, George was such a help to his Father at the end..."  
  
"Mother?"  
  
"Stay here, John. I think I can be more of a comfort to her now."  
  
"Thank you Mrs. Woodhouse."  
  
The child was slowly walking around the edge of the rug; one foot on, one foot off.  
  
I could tell there was a shift in the room, someone had left.  
  
"You are bearing up then John?"  
  
"Now, when George first came with the news I was quite shocked. I don't remember the trip back at all."  
  
"And your brother?"  
  
"He was a rock until the very end of the service. I think, now that all the duties have been done, he has allowed himself this... rest."  
  
Now what is she doing? Should she be removing that ribbon from her hair?  
  
"This is my best ribbon."  
  
"So it is." The numbness recedes a little.  
  
"Mama says that I am always happy when I wear it."  
  
My head clears as I say, "Your Mama is a very wise woman."  
  
She gently folds the ribbon twice, then holds it out to me, "You can have it. Then you'll be happy."  
  
I look at the gift placed before me, Solomon had not such riches. "Thank you, Emma."


End file.
